


Cherry Wine

by hazelevesques



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-06 00:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelevesques/pseuds/hazelevesques
Summary: After being separated from her best friend for five years, Katya Zamolodchikova struggles to remain happy in her new city of Denver, Colorado.  She maintains sanity by reminiscing on one very specific, important moment from their previously entwined lives.  Meanwhile, Trixie is working to find herself in Boston-- and comes to understand that her feelings for a certain blonde Russian may not have been just the warm fuzzy feelings of friendship.  Separated by a distance of miles and years, the two independently begin to seek each other out once again. Playlist included!





	1. Valerie

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting here all day, unable to decide if I should start posting this with everything that's been going on with Brian in real life this week. I decided to post, because it ultimately will lead to healing and good feelings for Katya (this isn't a spoiler because I'm a big softy and y'all should see that coming!). If anybody reading this is struggling with addiction or their mental health in any way, I must implore you to seek help. Brian (and by extension, the Katya in this fic) has a lot to battle every day, and his strength is admirable. If you need anybody to talk to, you are more than welcome to send me a message via AO3 or my tumblr, lesbianrrey. Sorry for the heaviness, I hope you enjoy the first of many chapters to this fic! 
> 
> [This playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/user/121426613/playlist/6QsO7NvOWgPdqOWaEgVzZy) is still under construction, but CH1 was inspired by the first song, Valerie. The other songs included are a sneak peek at chapters to come!
> 
> Xoxo, S.

For a long time afterwards, whenever Katya felt hopeless, she was brought back to that night at the sushi restaurant downtown.  At worst, thinking about how it felt to hold Trixie’s hand under the table made her heart plummet—but at best, it made her feel like there was something worth living for.  It made her remember what it was like to _know_ that there was somebody who cared about you.  Even when it had been two (then three, four, five) years since she had seen Trixie in person, Katya would find herself laying in the dark, thinking about her closest friend. 

Each night, Katya forced herself to remain completely still, centering herself mentally against the self-destructive thoughts radiating from within. Inevitably, her thoughts would wander to that immensely important night.  As the occasional car would drive by outside, causing a slight breeze to sneak in through the opened window, Katya would be reminded of the stupid draft in the busy restaurant…

**

She hadn’t brought a coat with her that night.  It was stupid, because both Trixie and Pearl had said something about how cold it was before they left their shared apartment.  But Katya never listened, hopping into their Uber with bare arms and bare legs.  They had shared a few drinks in the kitchen before they left, pregaming like they were in college again.  When Trixie had gone to the bathroom, Pearl convinced Katya to take two shots of Fireball, back to back.  The cheap liquor made her gag, but she downed them both before opting for a third.  It made her stomach warm, though, which is exactly how she didn’t notice how chilly it was getting outside.

As they rushed downstairs to meet their Uber, the girls tried to keep their giggles in check.  Trixie struggled to lock the apartment door, dropping the keys twice.  “Hurry the fuck up!” Katya yelled obnoxiously.  Pearl shot her a death glare, but she paid no mind. She was anxious to get their night started.  In the car, the three blondes settled into their seats.  With Trixie and Katya sharing the back seat, Pearl used her position up front to convince the unsuspecting Uber driver to stop by a corner store right outside their neighborhood.  Trixie rolled her eyes when they pulled up, shaking her head disapprovingly.  Katya hopped out, reaching back to pull her red dress down as she went.  Damn thing was so tight, it rode up with every step.  She hustled up to the counter and gave the attendant their order.  Back in the car, she waited for the Uber driver to get good and distracted by traffic before pulling the shooters out of her bag.  These mini bottles of liquor had saved the girls plenty of money in the past, getting them drunk without racking up their bar tab.  She discreetly palmed two orange bottles of Fireball to Pearl, and fished out two shots of Svedka vodka for herself.  Trixie looked at her expectantly.

“I thought you didn’t take shooters, Trix?” Katya teased. 

Trixie nervously glanced up to the front seat, not wanting to be caught by their driver.  Pearl was successfully engaging him with the typical Uber-appropriate conversations—‘How long have you been driving for?’ ‘Where did you move to Boston from?’—and he paid no mind to what was going on in the back seat.  Pearl turned towards her window and feigned a yawn, downing some liquor in the process.  Classy.

“Did you really not get me anything?” she almost looked hurt.  Katya couldn’t keep it up for long.  Those damn puppy dog eyes under her heavy lashes got her every time.  She reached back into her tiny black purse and handed her friend two bottles of RumChata. 

Katya couldn’t contain her laughter.  What a ridiculous shot to take.  Trixie always preferred sickeningly sweet drinks to the harder ones her and Pearl enjoyed.  Dramatic as ever, Trixe slumped down in her seat to avoid being seen with the mini-bottle help up to her lips.  Katya couldn’t help but notice how her pastel skirt rode up as she did so.  The extra couple inches of skin made her stomach grow warm again, but she chose to pretend that was a result of the alcohol settling into her system.  She couldn’t take her eyes off of Trixie, no matter how hard she tried (she wasn’t trying).  Katya watched as she went to down her second shot, a little bit of the cream-colored liquor escaping from the bottle and running across her bottom lip.  _Kiss it off,_ she thought.  _No!  What?!_

Katya’s conflicting thoughts were interrupted by the car suddenly swerving over to the right and parking on the curb.  There was no way they had made it downtown yet.  Pearl and the driver were shouting at each other. 

“Look, I’m sorry!  I’ll put them away.  We’re almost there, please just finish the ride!” Pearl’s words were pleading but her tone was harsh.  She sat in the front seat with her arms crossed, refusing to unbuckle her belt.

Unfortunately for them, the driver was just as stubborn.  “Get out.  You can’t sneak your liquor past me!  I’m ending the trip.  If you’re almost there, you can walk!” 

Trixie looked at Katya expectantly again.  She was always doing that, just assuming that Katya would do this or that.  Annoyed, she slid forward in her seat and tried to reason with the driver.  “Look, dude, Pearl’s a dumbass.  She’ll throw everything away, and won’t do anything else,” Katya’s tone remained even. 

Pearl scoffed, unhappy with the insult, but ultimately decided to keep her mouth shut.  Thankfully.  Without another word, the Uber driver put the car back in drive and merged back into traffic.  The girls were deathly silent for the rest of the trip.  At one point, Pearl turned around and peeked at her friends from beneath the headrest, pulling dumb faces.  While Katya nearly bites her tongue off from stifling a laugh, Trixie just looked pissed.  When they finally got to the sushi restaurant, Trixie walked in ahead of them and beelined straight to the ladies’ room. 

There have been very few times where Katya’s actually seen Trixie mad.  While anger used to be one of the Russian’s primary emotions, it was rarely in her friend’s repertoire.  In fact, the number of times could be counted on one hand: once back in college, when she had gotten torn apart by a teacher on a paper; once when her stepdad had tried to contact her a month after graduation; once when some dude outside of the dive bar they went to called Pearl a ‘dumb dyke’; that time in the sushi restaurant; and then the week before Katya moved away.  In the grand scheme of things, this was a startlingly low number of times. 

**

It used to be that Katya would allow the anger to consume her.  Even after she moved from Boston, she let herself feel anger in every cell of her being.  It radiated from her, pulsing as she lay in her too-hot apartment at night.  That’s how she started the habit of thinking of Trixie.  At first, the thoughts would intrude on her anger, until she eventually started doing it intentionally.  It was at her angriest, after being fired from a job she absolutely _had_ to have, that she struck gold.  When she had gotten home from the restaurant that night, she tore her apartment apart, searching for any stash she had perhaps forgotten about.  Did she have coke in the toilet tank? No.  Meth in her Russian nesting dolls?  No.  Even a bit of weed, in her little dime bag pouch?  Of fucking course not.  For the first time since she moved to Denver, Katya was hard up for drugs.  She had nothing. Reluctantly, she poured herself a stiff drink—vodka and water, hold the water—and downed it. For her second drink, she got changed, seeking comfort in the old pink university sweatshirt Trixie had sneakily packed for her.  She sat on the kitchen floor in that sweatshirt and her underwear, trying desperately to pull her shit together. 

**Katya:**

Hey. U got anything? 

**Detox:**

Depends what you want.

**Katya:**

Whatever… do u think u can front me?  Im a little short on $$ today ☹

**Detox:**

Sorry, girl.  I can’t right now.  Let me know when you’re looking to buy & I gotchu tho!

 

Katya rolled her eyes, more than mildly annoyed.  What kind of dealer calls themselves ‘Detox’ anyway?  It was insulting, in a sense.  As she poured herself another drink, she resorted to flipping through her mental Rolodex of Trixie memories, hoping she could find some peace in pining for her best friend again.  _Beautiful blonde hair, her loud laugh, midnight ice cream runs, laughing until our makeup streaked our cheeks…_ None of it was working.  Sure, they were nice memories, lovely memories!  But Katya was sitting in her freezing-fucking-cold apartment, jobless, drugless, and almost vodka-less. And then it happened.  Her favorite memory pushed its way to the front of her brain, ready to vie for attention.  Sitting in the sushi restaurant, holding Trixie’s hand under the table.  It makes her stomach feel warm.  Or, wait… is that the alcohol?  Typical.


	2. Girls/Girls/Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! A longer chapter! Yay! In which Trixie is reminded of the first time her and Katya met. The song on the playlist to listen to is "Girls/Girls/Boys". Thank you all for the great feedback from the last chapter! I'm so excited I was able to update this quickly, but I'm still trying to work out some sort of update schedule for the future. I'll be working hard to whip some good stuff up for you in the next few chapters.
> 
> Until next time,  
> S.

There were only two things Trixie Mattel hated more than loud parties: cherry wine, and obnoxious frat-boys.  And here she was, sitting on a threadbare couch in the basement of some dark frat house, being passed a bottle of cherry wine.  A fucking frat party!  Trixie, at 28 years old, was sitting on a disgusting couch at a fraternity house.  She cursed internally at the situation.  How ridiculous.  She picked at a loose stitch of the ugly mustard fabric mindlessly, trying very hard to ignore everyone around her.  _Katya would call this baby-shit yellow_ , she thought.  The intrusion of the thought startled her.  It had been quite a while since she had last thought anything about Katya.  At least a year, if not more.  That’s what she had told herself, anyway.  She dared to act like the three Russian dolls sitting on the shelf above her stove were purely a part of her eclectic aesthetic… regardless of the fact that they didn’t match anything else in her apartment.  Let alone that she had named her new kitten Katarina—because of the ‘cat’ pun, of course. 

Although those reminders of Katya had woven their way into Trixie’s life since the last time she had seen the petite Russian, she was right in that she hadn’t had a single _active_ thought regarding Katya in over a year.  And if she was being honest, it was the presence of cherry wine that caused the name to bubble up so freely from the back of her mind.  She turned her attention back to the couch, as she tried to push away the bothersome thoughts—but they wouldn’t go away.  Why did this couch look familiar?  And did she really only think of Katya because of the wine?  She tugged at the yellow string harder as she mulled this over in her mind.  If this was the kind of argument she was having with herself, she certainly wasn’t adequately intoxicated for this frat party.

She scanned the group around her for an alternative to the cherry wine, and couldn’t even find a warm beer to pilfer.  With a bitter taste in her mouth, she accepted it the next time it came her way. She ignored the half-hearted cheer from the girl next to her, aware that she was sucking down quite a bit of wine.  Even as she handed it over to the boy on her right, she felt the tell-tale twist of her stomach.  Trixie swallowed the extra saliva that started to pool under her tongue.  She would be damned before she allowed herself to puke at a fraternity house like she was 19 again.  That’s when it hit her, sending the room spinning.  Katya _wouldn’t_ call this couch baby-shit yellow.  She _did_ call this baby-shit yellow.  Nine years ago, the night they first met. 

***

Trixie was drunk before she even entered the fraternity house that night.  It was her nineteenth birthday, and her friends had been feeding her shots since 8:30. She had gotten a room at a hotel for herself, Violet, Pearl, Naomi and Kim.  To be more accurate, her mom had gotten it for them.  Over the summer, they agreed that would be her only birthday present from her family, but it was well worth it.  Initially, she hadn’t even planned on going anywhere.  She was just as satisfied to spend her birthday in that hotel with her closest friends.  But Pearl had heard about some sick party going on at the Pi Kappa Alpha house from her friend in a sorority at Boston University, and that was only a ten minute walk from the hotel.  Trixie didn’t care enough to refuse to go, and by the time they had shared a few rounds of drinks, she was pleased as punch.  Before they left, the girls made her chug a Smirnoff Ice and stuffed a few of the Jell-O shots in her purse for the road. 

They walked in a big, obnoxious group down the sidewalks of Boston, the older residents of the college town rolling their eyes as they made their way by.  There was something enviable about them that night.  The pure excitement that radiates of five Berklee girls, drunk off their pretty little asses, caused nostalgia for other students who were just settling back into their school routines.  Occasionally Naomi would strut ahead, her long legs and small frame making Trixie feel just the tiniest pang of bitterness.  She preferred pink to green, though, so she pushed all the envy away with a strut of her own.  Soon enough, the girls were all taking turns walking ahead of the others, swinging their hips like they were on a catwalk.  They cheered each other on, laughing and making all kinds of jokes as they went. 

When they finally made their way to the Pike house—a ten minute walk turned to nearly twenty because Kim insisted they make a right when they should have gone left—they quieted.  Their aggressive confidence from earlier turned quickly to nervousness.  They huddled together at the bottom of the steps that led to the front porch.  Pearl pulled out a cigarette and sent the pack around the circle for the other girls to help themselves.  All the girls declined, and stared at Pearl expectantly.  She wasn’t getting it at all. 

After a few minutes, Trixie vocalized what everyone else was wondering.  “So, Pearl… are you going to tell your friend we’re here?”

Pearl pulled a face, and looked at Trixie like she was an idiot for asking.  “Who, Carrie?  She’s not here.  She stayed in tonight.”  She said it as if it were obvious information, looking at Kim for support. 

“Uh… that’s not what we thought was happening, you know,” Kim argued, crossing her arms.  “We’re really supposed to walk into this party not knowing anybody?  Who does that?”

Naomi and Trixie nodded in agreement, uncomfortable with the events that were unfolding before them.  They were at a frat _from a different school_ , and hadn’t quite reached the stage in their lives where they were confident enough to walk in somewhere like they owned the place.  Although it was all fun and games when they walked down the street, it was _scary_ to think about barging into somebody else’s party without a friend already inside. 

At first, Trixie didn’t acknowledge the voice that called out to her from inside the house.  She continued to argue with Pearl, and now Violet, who both wanted to go find more drinks inside.  They had been talking in circles long enough for Pearl to have finished not one, but two cigarettes, and it was starting to get annoying.  Finally, it was Kim who hit Trixie on the shoulder and pointed at the open window on the third floor.  Some boy was leaning out of it, shouting at her.  “Beatrice Mattel!  Is that you?” he bellowed, confusing the hell out of her. 

“Um, yes?” she squinted, trying to make out who could possibly recognize her from her ‘Beatrice’ days here. 

“It’s me!  Jacob Reistoffer!  Are you coming inside?”

Before Trixie could reply, her friends nodded enthusiastically, pushing her forward.  They all piled inside the already full house, and oriented themselves to go up the stairs.  Jacob met them halfway, and showed them up to the attic, which was significantly less crowded.  In one corner, a couple sat on a beanbag chair together, talking to a few of their other friends over their red Solo cups.  On the other side of the attic was a shoddy beer pong table, and four boys around it arguing over whether or not they should go find people to play flip cup.  It was dark, and lit up by Christmas lights strung around the perimeter of the room.  Trixie studied the wooden beams supporting the ceiling, which had been graffitied with black Sharpie.  Some people had simply written their names, others had written cute phrases like “Shannon ❤’s the PIKE BOYS!!!!” or “Molly and Brennan 4evaaaaaaaa”.  No matter what happened tonight, Trixie knew she wanted to add her name to the beams before she left. 

Jacob went to a mini fridge in the corner and pulled out a six pack of hard lemonade to share with the Berklee girls.  They stood in a circle, Jacob’s arm wrapped around Trixie’s shoulders.  “Beatrice and I grew up together in Milwaukee,” he explained to the others after introductions had been made.  “She and I literally have _tipped cows_ together.”

“Actually,” she countered, “I flipped the cows, and Jacob watched from his shitty Ford pickup truck like a little baby!” 

With a good natured eyeroll, Jacob nodded in agreement.  “Alright, that might be true.  But hey, I’m a good six months younger than you, Mattel!”

Kim took this opportunity to pipe up.  “Hey!  Speaking of her being older than you, it’s _Trixie’s_ birthday today!”  She wasn’t subtle in emphasizing her friend’s preferred nickname. 

The boys near the pong table overheard, and cheered with their drinks raised.  Soon, one of the other girls in the far corner of the attic came over with a birthday shot.  The group carried on the rest of their evening that way, slowly making their way through each floor of the house and telling anybody who would listen that it was Trixie Mattel’s 19th birthday.  By the time they had wound their way to the dark basement, Trixie was bordering on sloppy.  Pearl had found a group of stoner girls to circle up with, and was helping load the bowl of somebody’s bong.  Violet and Naomi started dancing in the center of big room with a DJ and flashing lights.  Kim watched them from the door way, recording shitty video on her shittier phone.  But Trixie?  No, Trixie couldn’t quite hang.  She stumbled over to a nearby couch and wedged her way between a few other students to sit.  The room wasn’t quite spinning, but it wasn’t exactly steady either.  She finished her third—fourth?—hard lemonade, and the girl sitting next to her took it to throw in the trash. 

“This couch is disgusting, don’t you think?  It’s baby shit yellow,” the girl said, shaking her head with dismay, as if the couch had disappointed her.  “With how much they charge their members, you would think they’d drop some dime on a new couch, at least.”

Trixie giggled and finally turned to look at her companion head on.  She was oddly stunning, with messy blonde hair, and green-ish eyes that were almost hidden beneath long fake lashes.  She was wearing bright red lipstick that Kim would later identify as MAC’s Ruby Woo, and had on a matching red tank top.  Although it was remarkedly simple compared to what some of the other girls in the basement wore, Trixie could still acknowledge that the girl looked…bold.  It didn’t hurt that she had her own bottle of cherry wine in one hand, and she didn’t bother with a plastic cup like everybody else.  Her brain kicked into autopilot, struggling to slosh through the alcohol coursing in her system, and she stuck out her hand awkwardly.

“I’m Trixie,” she said.  Off to a good start.  “Today’s my birthday!”  The follow up sentence made her sound childish, and it was one of those things that she would repeat over again to herself over the next week, annoyed with her social ineptness.

“Oh, wow, want a cookie?” The other girl responded, dead pan.  Seeing Trixie’s eyes bulge, she broke out in laughter more than loud enough to be heard over the pulsing music.  “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t think you would take that seriously.  Happy birthday, girl.  Katya.” 

Trixie stared at Katya, unsure of how to proceed.  Finally, she reached into her purse and pulled out two Jell-O shots to share.  She handed one to her new friend (acquaintance? Couch buddy? Girl crush?) and opened one for herself.  “Birthday shot with me?”

***

She couldn’t believe she was back in the same frat house at BU that she had found herself in so many years ago.  It gave her goosebumps.  Before her mind could wander through the rest of that crucial evening, she was distracted by the girl walking towards her.  Trixie couldn’t take her eyes off that dark hair, and those ripped jeans.  They made her heart jump, although she had woken up next to that same head of hair this morning.  “Babe, can we go home?  Did you get a chance to say hi to your friends?” She was sick of tasting cherry wine.  But then again, maybe that’s what she deserves for casually dating a 20 year old sorority girl instead of someone her own age. 


	3. Amphetamine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Drug use; There's a lot coming in the next chapter... :) Thank you all for the lovely comments, I hope I'm doing you all right! I had some formatting ideas come to me yesterday, so I'll be going back through these three published chapters and slightly changing their formatting. 
> 
> Come bug me on tumblr, lesbianrrey. 
> 
> Mwah,  
> S.

Each day when Katya woke up, she did almost the exact same thing.  Her schedule was important to her, in that it kept her from completely going off the deep end.  Working at Caliente, her old restaurant, made it easy for Katya to keep her schedule.  She worked the same days every week, and it helped her to be held accountable by somebody else.  As far as she could remember, there had always been somebody else there to hold her accountable for her behavior .  Katya had been a Language Studies student for five years at Boston University.  Her advisers there had held her accountable, to an extent.  Then, in 2008 she met Trixie, who eventually would become her roommate.  In those days, even when Katya wasn’t working, her friend made sure she at least got up during the day and did something productive.  But now that she had been fired, she couldn’t force herself to get out of bed to shower, much less produce anything. 

It was the second week of feeling sorry for herself, and Katya was laying on her back in bed, with her head hanging off the side.  If she hadn’t been awake, the loud banging on the door certainly would have startled her out of sleep.  Katya weighed the options, guessing that it was her landlord standing outside her apartment.  If she ignored it, he could easily let himself in, and then it would be obvious that she was avoiding him.  He also would certainly see her ashtray on the kitchen counter, and the bong in the corner of the living room.  But on the other hand, if she answered it, he would ask her where her rent check was, and she would be forced to come up with some kind of lie. 

Katya actually enjoyed lying.  Not many people knew this about her, for obvious reasons.  She wasn’t a _liar_ per se, but she found a bit of a rush in getting away with an elaborate lie.  Mostly she practiced this with strangers.  If she was at a bar or chatting with somebody at the bus stop, she might make up a new name and history for herself.  Being a language student only helped her with this.  In an instant, she could become Elodie, the French woman who was in town to see her married American boyfriend.  Or really any number of foreign identities.  Although she did come from a Russian family, the accent was as fake as any of her other stories.  The point being that, as much as Katya wanted to pull her blankets further over her head, she had much better chances just answering the door and coming up with some story about her rent check. 

Before opening the door, she peered into the little mirror hung up on the wall by the door frame.  Her bangs were stuck up, and she tried to mat them down to her forehead, so she didn’t look insane.  She also had remnants of eyeliner smudged around her eyes.  With a shake of her head, she bared her teeth at herself before opening the door. 

_“_ Fucking finally,” the person out in the hallway whined.  Where Katya had been expecting her landlord, she instead was greeted by one of her friends from Caliente.  She was still processing the situation when Adore rushed towards her and wrapped her arms around the blonde’s waist.  “Girl… we all miss you so much.”

Katya’s mouth opened and shut a few times before settling into a wide smile.  Blinking back tears, she pulled away from Adore and started picking up her apartment.  The place was a bit of a mess, and she suddenly felt self-conscious, having a guest over.  She folded a throw blanket and draped it over the back of her bright red sofa, turning to her friend.  She studied her carefully, taking inventory of the girl’s messy outfit.  She had on ripped black shorts, which was ridiculous considering the temperature outside, and a teal flannel draped over her shoulders that was so oversized it was actually longer than the shorts.  She also had on fishnet stockings up to her thighs, and chunky black combat boots. It was Adore, alright.  Katya knew she would never be able to pull off the same outfit.  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she repeated, taking 6 or 7 dirty mugs from the antique wooden table and arranging them precariously in the sink. 

“Girl… people literally have no idea what to do without you over there.  Its been the craziest motherfucking two weeks, for real.”  Adore perched herself on one of the barstools in the kitchen.  “Everyone’s been talking about it.”

Katya winced.  “Gross.  I don’t want everyone talking about me.”  She found a scrunchie in her junk drawer and pulled her hair away from her face.  “Shut that shit down.”

“No!  It’s not like that… I mean everyone is arguing with Michelle and Ross about it.”

Katya considered this for a minute.  It hadn’t occurred to her that the other servers would be just as upset about her being fired.  “Well, that’s not really fair though.  I mean I _was_ drinking at work.”

“Right… but everyone else was too,” Adore argued slowly, as if Katya doesn’t quite understand the circumstances of her own unemployment.

Katya rolled her eyes.  “I’m the one who got caught.  That’s the difference, Adore.  Look, I don’t think I’m up to talk about this right now.  It’s still kind of fresh, you know?”

Adore nods, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and motions to the ashtray on the counter in front of her.  “You don’t mind, do you girl?”

With a shake of her head, Katya pushes the ashtray closer to her friend and fishes out a cigarette from her own pack.  She leans across the counter lazily and takes a drag.  She loves Adore to death, but she’s starting to develop a splitting headache and it may or may not have something to do with the whiney twenty-something sitting in front of her.  She took another drag, relishing the way the smoke caught in her throat.  “Tell me what else is new, though.  How’s Ginger?  And Sharon? Fill me in!”

While Katya listened to all the petty drama from the two weeks she had been gone, she fixed a couple mugs of tea and went over to sit on the couch.  Adore joined her without so much as a pause in the steady stream of words that babbled from between her lips.  “So, like, then ‘laska came back from vacation, and Sharon was fucking _pissed_ and they had it out with each other right at the host stand.  Can you imagine?  Well, I’m sure you can because its not exactly the first time, but like, girl, it was so much worse than before.  And then Ginger went and got Bianca, and you just _know_ how that went.  She was so mad!  And then—"

Katya held a finger out to stop the girl midsentence.  “Wait.  Do you want to smoke a bowl real quick?” She throws her head in the direction of her bong. 

Within thirty minutes, both women were good and stoned, lounging in the living room and listening to music on Katya’s record player.  This is the first time they’ve actually hung out one on one together.  As much as she has been avoiding it since getting fired, being around somebody else and interacting with another human being actually makes Katya feel a lot better.  At first, the girls chatted more about what’s been going on at the restaurant, but all the relationship drama caused Adore to talk about her ex-boyfriend from Iowa, and how much she missed him.  The story seemed to go on forever, but Katya was happy to listen, offering nods of encouragement and making soft, understanding noises here and there. 

“Do you have anyone you miss like that, Katya?  Does it ever get easier?” Adore pinched the bridge of her nose. “Because this is really fucking hard.”

Katya thought about telling her how much she’d been thinking of Trixie lately, but its not really the same situation.  Trixie was never her girlfriend, and she was the one really pushed the wedge in between them.  “Oh yeah.  It gets much easier,” she lied.

The cool autumn air came through the open living room window, making Adore shiver.  “I should probably get going pretty soon, girl,” she said, even as she pulled the throw blanket around herself.  “I have to work later tonight.  Oh!”  She reached for her purse.  Adore threw something at Katya, who nearly got hit in the head. 

Katya reached for the object, and found a fat pill bottle in her hand.  The label was covered in little yellow smiley face stickers, so she opened it to examine the medication stored inside.  She found what must have been close to 250 little blue and white capsules marked ’50 mg’.   _Vyvanse._ It took some serious willpower to not pop one in her mouth right away, and instead she forced herself to put the lid back on the bottle.  “I’m sorry, what?”

Adore broke out into a shit-eating grin.  “My gift to you.  I don’t take them anyway, I love my ADHD self.  But… well, Detox told Sharon, who told Alaska, who told me that you’ve been looking for stuff, and I know its not the same as crystal or coke or anything, but I just wanted to help you out.  Do you like Vyvanse?”

Again, Katya had to really force herself not to react inappropriately.  Adore was right, Vyvanse _wasn’t_ the same as speed, but proper prescribed amphetamines would make her feel just as good.  “Do you want money?” she asked, a bit shell shocked. 

The younger girl shook her head.  “No way!  Insurance covers most of it, and my parents foot the rest.”  She laughed loudly, slapping her hand on Katya’s knee.  “They’re all yours, girl!”

At that, there was another loud knock on the door.  Now Katya was sure it would be her landlord, and the whole place reeked of weed.  Legalization was great for a lot of reasons, but it did nothing to prevent her landlord from maintaining his strict no-smoking policy in her lease.  She got up and started fanning the room frantically, trying to force the smell out the open window.  Just as she turned to tell Adore to hide the bong, Adore opened the front door wide. 

“I know this ain’t your house, Adore.  Don’t you work tonight?” The voice, once again, did not belong to Katya’s landlord.  Bianca del Rio walked past Adore and into the small apartment.  “Lovely place you have here, kid,” she said, taking in the scene around her. 

More so than before, Katya was self-conscious with how her apartment was kept.  Ashtray in hand, she went over to give Bianca a quick hug.  She was so surprised to see her former supervisor, considering the conditions surrounding her departure from Caliente.  She was also glad that she had thought to throw the pill bottle in the cabinet.  Bianca surely wouldn’t approve of Adore giving her the prescription. 

“I only came by because I wanted to make sure you got out of bed today, girlie.  I know how hard it is to lose a job like that.”  The older woman returned her hug, which just continued to surprise Katya.  Bianca was like everybody’s work mom at the restaurant.  She was who people went to for advice or to vent, but she also would yell at you to get your ass bussing tables if need be.  All three women were trying to ignore the bong still sitting on the coffee table, and Bianca didn’t stay for long.  They stood in the entry way like that, catching up, before she and Adore left together, both giving Katya a tight squeeze on their way out the door.  Before shutting the door behind her, Bianca leaned back in and grabbed the blonde’s arm. 

“You’re a strong girl.  Don’t forget that.” 

Katya repeated the words to herself in the bathroom mirror later that night.  She needed to start leaving the house, she decided.  With a careful eye, she studied her outfit in the mirror, and adjusted her red lace top accordingly.  She went through her quick leaving-the-house routine: extra coat of lipstick, check teeth, perfume on neck, and then… the thing she had been waiting for all evening.  She placed one blue and white pill in the center of her tongue, then swallowed it with water from the bathroom sink.  _You’re a strong girl.  Don’t forget that._


	4. Skinny Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been way too long since I updated but I've been having a bit of a rough time in real life, so sorry for that. Xx. Enjoy, please comment, love you beauties.

Three months had passed since Trixie had left that frat party in a daze, fighting the sickening turn of a stomach filled with too-sweet wine.  Three months passed since she had dared to think about Katya.  Three months since she drunkenly told her then-girlfriend all about her best friend from days gone by, and how much she missed her. 

It turned out, letting herself think of Katya that night nearly immediately proved to be a regrettable experience.  It had been three months, and she had spent no less time than that thinking about her friend every day.  Trixie was reminded of this every time she woke up in her studio apartment alone, instead of with Laila curled into her side.  It was a particularly rainy morning that made her snap out of it. It was the near-torrential downpour outside her window that made her decide to get off her ass and actually do something.  She recalled how much she and Katya had liked spending their rainy days together, and she used this as fuel to do something productive about how she had been feeling. 

**

“Trixie!  Wake up… its raining,” Katya hissed in her ear.

 Trixie swallowed her annoyance and opened one eye.  Her roommate stood next to her bed, tapping her fingers together excitedly. Katya’s blonde hair was pulled up into a high pony tail with a scrunchie, and she was still in her red and black plaid pajama bottoms, and black tank top. The room was still quite dark around her, sunlight not yet peeking through the slats of her blinds. “Raining raining?”  Katya nodded in response, and the Trixie reached for her phone on the night stand.  She squinted to read the time.  7am.  With a sigh, she patted the bed beside her.  She had been working so hard on her final projects that it _would_ be nice to have a lazy day.  Wordlessly, Katya joined her under the soft pink comforter.

This was their tradition.  On days where the skies seemed to break open, the girls cancelled all of their plans for the day and stayed in bed until noon.  Katya had already called in to work before getting Trixie up, who proceeded to tap out emails to all of her professors, claiming food poisoning.  She attached her assignments to the emails, and then sent out messages to Naomi and Kim, asking them to send her the notes or let her know if she missed anything major.  Before she knew it, it was already past eight.  After shoving her phone under her pillow, Trixie turned to lay on her stomach and shut her eyes.  But, unfortunately, sleep did not come.  The process that it took to take a day off school was much more engaging than it was to get off from work, and she found herself fully awake after using so many parts of her brain. 

The bed didn’t feel quite comfortable to her anymore, and she got up to look out the window at the wet weather outside.  As frustrated as she was to be awake, she was not disappointed with the fat water droplets that slid down the pane of glass in front of her.  She pressed a fingertip up to the glass and tracked the trail down from top to bottom.  With a sigh, she glanced at her friend, fast asleep behind her.  Somehow, in the short time Katya had been in her bed, she managed to get the pink and white sheets all tangled around her legs, and her ponytail had fallen out into a mess of blonde hair around her. 

Once, Kim and Naomi had shyly asked her if it was weird for her that Katya was a lesbian.  She thought for a moment, unsure of how to respond.  It never bothered her at all, and she felt comfortable and safe, even in (especially in) those moments where they shared a bed, or cuddled on the couch, or even when they drunkenly helped each other shower.  It never occurred to her _to_ feel weird about it, in fact.  Katya had gotten a little clingier lately, but Trixie was confident that was due to her having graduated, and Trixie still being so tied up with school.  They didn’t have their study time together anymore, and Katya’s mostly-evening work schedule prevented them from continuing their ‘roomie dinner’ tradition on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

 Instead of laying in the bed restlessly, Trixie went into their shared bathroom and started drawing a hot bath.  She made a cup of mint tea and filled the tub with lavender Epsom salts to relax her sore back muscles.  If she was going to call in sick to class, she might as well fully enjoy it, she figured.  She eased herself into the steaming water, inch by inch.  She had brought a book in with her, but once her body was submerged, she opted to close her eyes instead.  _Oh,_ now _I’m sleepy,_ she shook her head at herself, mildly annoyed.  When the bath reached capacity, she shut the faucet off and fully relaxed her tense body.  School had been eating up all of her free time, and she rarely got a day to just do absolutely nothing.  Now that she thought of it, her and Katya hadn’t enjoyed a proper rainy day together in months.  She continued to daydream, her eyes growing heavier and heavier.  It wasn’t until Katya knocked heavily on the bathroom door that she knew she had fallen asleep. 

“One second!  I’ll be right out!” she called out as she tugged on the rubber plug in the drain.  It gave a satisfying _pop_ as she pulled it free.  Still a little asleep, she watched mesmerized as the water spiral out of the tub.  When she finally stood, the water that had pooled behind her wide hips in the tub rushed forward.  She gave a small smile.  Oddly, this was one of her favorite parts of taking a bath.  As was typical for her lately, Trixie avoided looking in the bathroom mirror until her plush cream robe was tied tightly around her.  She opened the door, expecting to see Katya waiting for her, but the hallway was empty.  A loud crash came from the kitchen, telling her all she really needed to know.

“What time is it?” she called down the hall.  “Sorry, I fell asleep in the tub.  I thought I would be out by the time you woke up!”  She walked barefoot towards the kitchen, which she regretted the second she entered the room.  “What the _fuck_ did I just step in?”

Katya turned around and gave her a not-so-comforting look.  “Yikes!  Sorry girlie.  Its just milk.”  She threw a dish towel on the ground in Trixie’s direction.  “Anyway, I made cinnamon rolls for us!”  She opened the oven and let the warm smell waft out.

Annoyance melted away as Trixie delighted in the idea of sugary cinnamon dough.  She used her foot to scooch the dishtowel over the spilt milk and dried off her painted toes in the process.  “You’re the best roommate ever, Kat.  Have I told you that?”  She sat at their kitchen table, staring out the little window at the rain.  She wondered if it would continue into the afternoon.  On one hand, she hoped it would, to give her an excuse to do nothing the rest of the day.  But on the other, she had just helped Kim and Naomi plant flowers in their backyard, and too much rain would flood the garden.  This is what she thought of as Katya finished icing the cinnamon rolls, and planted a plate in front of her on the little glass table top. 

They sat and chatted over cinnamon rolls and hot beverages (more mint tea for Trixie, black coffee for Katya) for the better part of an hour.  It had been quite some time since they really got to catch up like that.  Although Katya lamented how useless her degree was, and how hard it was to juggle her under-paying job as a translator with her evening job waiting tables, Trixie had to admit she was entertained by the drama that went on at the little Italian café where her roomie worked.  Eventually, Trixie got changed out of her robe into a pair of grey leggings and a cream knit top and the pair moved to the couch.  Katya immediately put her feet in her friend’s lap.  “Paint my toenails and we can watch whatever dumb movie you want!”

“First of all,” Trixie sighed, rolling the red bottle of Essie nail polish between her palms.  “First of all, _Bridget Jones’ Diary_ is _not_ dumb.  But you’re telling me that all I have to do is paint the fucking claws you call toenails and I don’t have to watch _Contact_ again?  Deal.”  She cued up the rom-com on Netflix and got to work with the nail polish.  They mostly watched in comfortable silence, although Katya occasionally interrupted to make dumb comments.  As the credits rolled, long after her toenails were dried, Katya pulled her feet off Trixie’s lap.

“That wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be,” she admitted. 

Trixie grinned smugly and turned the TV back to the menu screen.  “Thank you!  Renee Zellweger is funny, right?” 

The older girl snorted.  “I wouldn’t go quite that far!”

The rest of their day continued much like that.  They watched an artsy foreign film of Katya’s choosing, and then played countless episodes of _Friends_ until dinner time.  It was a great day, and Trixie was silently surprised that they hadn’t spent any of it arguing.  It seemed like lately that was all they did, fighting over stupid things like who took out the trash, or more important ones like whether or not Trixie was spending enough time on their friendship.  It had become very frustrating for the younger girl to spend any time at home.  All the same, this particular day was argument free, and that was a delight for both of the young women.  The next day would be unseasonably sunny, and they would be back to what would become the new normal to them. 

After dinner, they sat in their pajamas on the kitchen floor with a bottle of wine and Trixie vented to her friend about her tough class schedule.  Finals were quickly approaching, and not all of her professors were as understanding as those she had taken classes from in the past.  On top of it all, Naomi’s grades were impeccable, and she was struggling to not compare herself to her peers.  She had gained nine pounds this semester from the stress of it, and she was unhappy with where it had settled on her frame.  All of this and more poured out of her mouth, and she settled her head into her hands.  “I just don’t know what to fucking do, Kat!”

Katya passed the bottle of cherry wine back to Trixie, and nodded thoughtfully.  “You know what, girlie?  None of us know what to do.  But that’s okay!  You’re smart, and beautiful, and young.  You make music like I can’t even believe.  And you’re a great friend!” 

A soft smile passed between them, and Trixie finished off the sweet wine with a bit of a grimace.  Katya scooched across the tile floor and put a hand on her knee.  “Girlie, you know what you need?  You need to just scream it out.  Yell, at the top of your lungs.  I’ve been doing it for years, and it always works to get things out of my head.”

Trixie tilted her head, contemplating the advice.  How had she been living with this girl for two and a half years and never heard her ‘scream it out’?  And maybe it was the wine talking, but Katya’s eyes looked extra green instead of their regular gray, her hair looked extra adorable all messed up, and her lips looked extra soft.  The younger girl opened her mouth, thinking about screaming, but instead leaned in and pressed her lips against Katya’s, a surge of excitement filling her veins. 

**

The rain pounded against Trixie’s apartment windows, reminding her of those days with Katya that were long gone.  It was the perfect punctuation to how she had felt for the past three months.  Her chest tightened and her eyes watered, but she got out of bed and shook it off. It took discipline, but she managed to work her way through her Saturday morning chores.  She made the bed, watered her plants, and tidied up the bathroom before opening her windows wide and letting the rainy air into her apartment. 

The cream couch in her living room made for a comfortable office space as Trixie powered up her laptop and started searching for flights to Denver.  For the past few months she had been saving up money for a big purchase, which she hadn’t quite decided on yet.  A round trip from Boston to Denver certainly qualified.  She connected her phone to the Sonos speaker across the room via Bluetooth, and played the Dolly Parton station on Pandora.  With a deep breath, she took her old friend’s older advice and let out a nice, loud scream. 


	5. Boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two women are so fucking frustrating, aren't they? Some TW for depiction of addiction. Thank you all for your lovely comments, as always they keep me going so feel free to comment or come visit me on tumblr :D . Otherwise, the song for this chapter is Boyfriend by Tegan and Sara. Should have the next chapter up relatively soon!  
> Xx. S

The glass window was cool against Katya’s cheek as she tried desperately not to vomit all over herself during her Uber ride home.  She had been going out to the bars night after night, scoring free drinks from desperate men who had no idea she wasn’t interested in them, or trading her precious blue and white pills for shots with the bartenders.  It surprisingly had taken a two weeks to catch up with her, and this was the hangover to end all hangovers.  The Uber driver swung into her apartment complex, causing her stomach to heave all over again.  The timing couldn’t have been better, as she opened the door to exit the SUV and ended up puking all over the parking lot in front of her.  She braced herself against the doorframe and let the toxins leave her body.  She fished out a twenty from her wallet and put it in the cupholder as a tip, shooting an apologetic look to the mom who drove for Uber while her kids were in school.  She hopped out, missing the small lake of vomit by an inch, and began the arduous journey to her third-floor apartment. 

Once she got inside, she stripped out of her sweaty dress and turned on the shower.  As steam filled the room, Katya stared at herself in the mirror.  Her bangs were stuck to her forehead, and her black eyeliner was more than smudged around her eyes.  She looked like a raccoon.  She tilted her face, checking her angles, and pretended like she couldn’t see the bruise starting to bloom across her cheekbone.  Inside the shower, the hot water pounded against her back as she examined the rest of her body.  She ran the jagged edge of her broke acrylic thumbnail across her lower lip mindlessly as she counted the numerous bruises across her pale shins.  She had a nasty scrape on her left thigh.  She couldn’t remember how any of it happened.  She couldn’t possibly sustain this lifestyle for much longer.

She shut the shower off after the water started to run cold.  Katya tracked wet footprints around her apartment as she searched for a small list of items: a hair tie, a glass of water, and a roll of paper towels.  Calmly, she set the items on the edge of the sink and settled down on the fluffy turquoise bathmat in front of the toilet.  She tied her hair up and waited.  She had this routine down pat. 

**

After ten minutes of searching for her stash, Katya finally worked up the nerve to knock on her roommate’s door.  Trixie called for her to come in, and she complied.  Her friend looked beautiful as ever, sitting cross legged on her neatly made bed with her laptop casting an angelic glow around her.  The room was dimly lit, with the fairy lights pinned across the ceiling as the only light source.  The room was bathed in pink and cream and looked like something straight off of Pinterest.  Katya smiled sweetly.

“Hey girlie…” she started, building up to her point. “I was just wondering if you’ve maybe seen my Russian nesting dolls laying around anywhere?  I can’t seem to find them… and I was just wanting—”

“Your stash?” Trixie’s voice was cold, a dissonant harshness compared to her soft look.  “That’s what you’re wanting, right?”

Mindlessly, Katya fiddled with the tapestry hung next to the door frame.  The edges were slightly frayed—perhaps intentionally—and it made for an excellent distraction.  “I don’t—if that’s what’s—I just was wondering if you’d seen them…”

A barking laugh came out of Trixie’s pretty pink lips, which startled the older woman.  “I think I saw them.  But I don’t know where they are.”

Katya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.  Her own nervous demeanor was starting to dissipate. “Did you do something with them?”

Trixie ignored her.

With an exaggerated sigh, Katya turned around and shut the door behind her on her way out.  She searched the apartment again from top to bottom trying to find her stuff.  As she searched she fumed, frustrated with the situation.  Sure, she had told Trixie months ago that she would quit using drugs, but it wasn’t her friend’s place to up and hide her things from her.  That was theft, straight up.  Anyway, she wasn’t doing hard stuff as much anymore, and she hadn’t bought meth in months.  But she had been having a particularly tough week at work and she wanted to use on her one night off.  Was that too much to fucking ask for?  As she sulked around the apartment, she slammed cabinets and drawers loud enough for Trixie to hear.  That bitch. 

Katya was so wrapped up in her own anger that she didn’t know that her roommate had left her room until she was right behind her.  Trixie softly touched her elbow and jerked her head towards the couch. 

“Can we sit down?  I think we should talk.”

Katya clenched her eyes shut and nodded, taking a seat.  They both sat in silence, and although Katya refused to look in her roommate’s direction, she could feel Trixie’s eyes on her.  Instead, she stared out the window. 

“Okay.  So, I think it’s time to revisit the conversation we had in the fall about your drug use.  I know you’re going to say it’s not my job—”

“It isn’t.”

“O-o-okay, it isn’t my job.  But I care about you, Katya, and the thing is, I’m not going to be able to live with you anymore if you continue to bring that shit into our home. I just can’t do it anymore—”

Katya snapped her attention to Trixie’s face and scanned her features.  Her soft cheeks, angular nose, and beautiful eyes were captivating.  She looked away again, bringing her focus back.  “Is this about the utilities?  If its about utilities, I’ll have a check for you tomorrow, I’m sorry.”

Trixie sighed and put her hand on Katya’s knee.  “You know this isn’t about the utilities.  I’m… I’m worried about you.”

It took everything in Katya’s power to not lean in and grab Trixie’s round face in her hands and press their lips together.  But she had promised herself that she wouldn’t let it happen anymore.  The past few months had been hell.  The last time Trixie brought a boy home, Katya had lost it.  She went on a bender and showed back up at the apartment a few days later.  Trixie had begged her to stop using, and she did, for the most part.  But she couldn’t quit completely.  She didn’t want to.  It was on that day that she had thought long and hard about what she and Trixie had been doing, and she simply wasn’t satisfied.  Not that she could possibly express that to her.  Of course not. 

Snapping back to present reality, Katya tapped her fingers together anxiously.  “Trixie, I’ve stopped.  Mostly.  I just really want to use one more time.  Can’t you just let me—”

“No.”  Once again, the abrupt tone in Trixie’s voice startled her. 

Katya stood, and slowly walked to her bedroom.  The place was a disaster, with dirty clothes all over the floor and a dirty plate on her bedside table.  Her desk was so cluttered she hadn’t used it in weeks, and she had to search under a pile of clean clothes for her laptop.  What she wouldn’t give for an Adderall or even a little bump of coke to help her zone in.  She had two major projects to get done, or she would be at risk for losing her position translating for the University.  If she could finish the semester well, she knew Professor Velour would write her a stellar recommendation letter for the graduate studies program, and she needed that for them to overlook some of her undergrad grades.  The piece she was working on was a French document that needed to be translated to English, but it was so bogged down with academic language that it was rather difficult for her to get through.

The tapping on her door was a welcome distraction.  Without waiting for a response, Trixie came into her room and sat gingerly on the bed.  “I miss you, you know,” she said, sadness creeping into her voice.

Katya nodded.

“Will you sleep in my room tonight?” Trixie looked hopeful.  Katya felt the familiar flutter of her heart in her chest, but her stomach felt like a rock. 

“Oh, girlie… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

The younger girl bit her bottom lip.  “Please?  We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to—”

“I want to.”  It was Katya’s turn to be blunt.

“Well then what’s the issue?” Trixie pouted, folding her arms gingerly across her chest. 

Katya took a deep breath, and reached her left hand towards her friend.  It found its place at the back of her head, tangled in Trixie’s mess of blonde hair.  She hadn’t styled it today, and it was messy and a little curly, and soft and downy.  Moving at a painfully slow pace, Katya pulled herself in, closing the gap between them.  When their lips barely touched, she tugged on Trixie’s hair and moved down to kiss her neck instead.  Her skin was tender between her lips, and she sucked and bit lightly as she went.  She knew she was likely leaving a little trail of hickeys that Trixie would have to cover with a scarf or a turtleneck in the morning, but she didn’t care. 

Trixie’s hands found her waist and frantically pulled her up and over.  Katya sat with her strong thighs on either side of Trixie’s pink-clad ones, and she rotated her hips, desperate for more touching.  She shivered as Trixie’s acrylic finger nail traced down her spine.  The pile of clothes on the bed would become an obstacle shortly.  “Your room?” she breathed, forcing herself to take a break. 

Trixie nodded, and they both reluctantly stood to go across the hall to the room better suited for their activities.  Once inside, the younger girl took an eternity to put away her laptop and her school binders, making sure each G2 Ink Pen and neon Hi-Lighter found its proper home on her desk.  Impatiently, Katya sat on the bed and stripped off her black t-shirt.  She leaned back on her elbows and waited for Trixie to turn back around.  When she finally did, Katya smiled smugly, taunting her to join her.  When she was finally joined in bed, Katya wasted no time reaching for the hem of Trixie’s shirt, pulling it up and over her head.  It messed her hair up even more, which made her smile.  They sat like that, Trixie hovering slightly over Katya, just staring at each other for a while.  It had been months since they had touched each other like this, and while neither wanted to wait, they didn’t want to rush things either. 

It was in those moments of hesitation that Katya’s eyes picked up bright colors on the shelf behind Trixie.  It stood out from all the pinks, creams, and greys that decked out the room otherwise, and it made Katya’s stomach drop.  Once she had latched on to the 7 inch object, she couldn’t think about anything else.  Her veins itched.  Her nesting dolls were sitting on the shelf, staring at her.  She didn’t hear Trixie initially.

“Hello? Earth to Katya, are you okay?”  Trixie giggled and jostled her friend’s arm good naturedly.  She turned slowly, following the older girl’s gaze behind her.  “Katya…”

“So you did take it,” Katya spoke, her voice low and cold. 

“Katya—” Trixie started again, her face flushing.  She reached out for Katya’s face and tried to kiss her, desperately seeking contact. 

Katya flinched, her eyebrows knitting together in the center of her forehead.  She fought back the rush of emotions that were surging through her, not letting the tears come.  “Were you just trying to distract me?  Is that why you wanted to sleep with me?  What the fuck is that?”  Her voice rose with each question, all shakiness disappearing by the end.

Trixie rolled back to sit on her heels, her hands in her lap.  She opened her mouth and then shut it, at a loss for words.  “Katya…”

“Don’t.  Don’t say my name again.  You’ve been using me, coming to my door whenever you don’t have someone else to _fuck_ you! I’m fucking done with it.  Find a new roommate to be your fuck buddy.”  The words were laden with intention, biting.

Katya rose suddenly, grabbing her t-shirt in one hand.  She reached out for her Russian dolls with the other, opening them to find nothing.  No baggie, no lighter, nothing.  She threw the three dolls, one at a time, at her roommate, before leaving the room with an air of finality.  She slammed the door in her own room before sliding down, her back against the wall, her face finally crumpling into a mess of tears and snot. 

**

After emptying her stomach of any of its remaining contents from the previous night, Katya chugged the glass of water and brushed her teeth, ignoring the mess of dried toothpaste in her sink.  She found her purse in the living room and took the happy-face covered pill bottle out.  She had gone through quite a few of the Vyvanse pills in the couple of weeks since Adore had given her the prescription, but there were still over 200 left.  With discipline, she put the bottle on the edge of her sink, and went to her closet to get dressed.  Black jeans and a turtleneck covered the various bruises and scrapes that had littered her body.  She channeled her former roommate’s tendencies of focus and order as she packed a small duffle bag with a few changes of clothes.  Her laptop and charger made their ways into the bag as well as a small amount of makeup and an extra scrunchie. 

Before she left the apartment, she filled out a pre-dated rent check and left it on the kitchen counter just in case she wasn’t back in time.  Her white Volkswagen was parked in the front row of the apartment building and she threw her duffle in the back before settling into the driver’s seat.  She hadn’t made the drive from Denver to Boston for four years, but she knew it by heart.


	6. Riptide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all!! Xx, S

The luggage carousel brought the same suitcases in front of Trixie for the fifth time, and (wouldn’t you know it), hers _still_ wasn’t among them.  Next to her on the tile floor sat her carry-on makeup case, her pink duffle bag, and her Kate Spade tote, but she was still missing her pink aluminum roll away luggage.  Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket, and she pulled it out to see that Pearl was calling her.  She answered, nervously.

“Trixie? Where the fuck are you?” Pearl sounded more bored than annoyed, even though her verbiage betrayed her otherwise.

“Err… I’m actually in Denver at the moment.  I’m at the airport!” she laughed loudly, and her fakeness echoed in her head.  A young couple a few yards away at the next luggage carousel turned and stared at her.  She made a face at them before turning to look the other way.

Pearl coughed.  “So… are you not coming to the community center tonight?”

Realization hit Trixie like a bus.  “Fuck…” she hadn’t even thought about her prior engagements, she had been so wrapped up in getting to the Boston Logan airport on time.  “No, I just got here.  I- I decided to come see Katya.”

“You did not!  Are you serious?  Trixie, you dumb bitch!  Get it!”  Pearl’s demeanor completely changed. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Trixie spotted the shine of her pink hard-sided suitcase coming around on the carousel.  “Score!” she shouted, grabbing for her bag, ignoring the couple’s dirty looks for the second time.  “Anyway, yeah, I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing here, but I haven’t stopped thinking about her, and that has to mean something.  You don’t happen to know where she works, do you?”

“Some restaurant.  Caliente, it’s called.  I’m not sure where it is, but I think it’s the only one,” Pearl was back to sounding bored.

As Trixie gathered up her luggage and started navigating her way to the other side of the airport, she and Pearl chatted about the classes they taught at the community center, and how Pearl could combine their classes for the evening to cover Trixie’s shift.  Eventually, she found herself in the rental car area, and said her quick goodbyes.  As she filled out the paperwork for some cheap sedan, a surprisingly young employee approached her with a nervous look in his eye. 

“Ma’am, I was—I was wondering if I could talk you into an upgrade today?” He glanced behind him, at the bored looking female employee behind the desk.  “We have a beautiful—”

“No, thank you,” Trixie said politely, turning back to the contract she was filling out with her insurance information.  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him retreat to the desk, only to be sent her way again by the older girl. 

He cleared his throat and looked at her apologetically.  “We have a special on some of our convertibles today, which would be perfect for this unseasonably warm Denver weather we’ve been having…” He sounded just a touch too practiced, like he was reciting a script.

Trixie sighed, and shook her head.  “I really don’t think…” she paused.  She was always a sucker for a convertible.  “You know what?  Tell me more about the convertibles.”

And that’s how Trixie Mattel ended up leaving the Denver airport decked out in a white Mustang convertible, her hair blowing in the wind (and sticking to her lipgloss).  Lucky for her, Pearl was right—there was only one restaurant called Caliente in the Denver area, and she was headed there following the voice of the guide built into the car.  By the time she hit traffic, she had gotten almost all the way to the restaurant.  Within half an hour she was sitting in the parking lot, working up the nerve to go in.  Through the whole process (buying a place ticket, packing her backs, boarding the plane, getting the rental car) she hadn’t thought much about what she was doing.  Why did she feel this need to go see Katya?  And what if Katya wasn’t interested in seeing her?  That thought hadn’t so much as occurred to her, not until she sat on the same property as the woman she hadn’t seen in five years.

She was thinking all of this through when a group of teenage girls passed by her, laughing and joking around.  Watching them tease each other as they entered the restaurant instantly reminded her of the way her and her friends used to walk around on the weekends, going from party to bar to party.  They also reminded her of the nights going downtown with Pearl and Katya, taking shots in the car and running into restaurants from the cold.  Before her brain caught up to her body, she found herself getting out of the car and walking into the restaurant behind the group of girls. 

The inside of the restaurant was different than she expected.  When she walked in from the daylight, her eyes needed a minute to adjust.  Once she got past the dim lighting, she saw a mahogany hostess stand with a few flickering candles sitting on each side.  Three women stood behind it, looking bored.  One was tall and lanky with a mess of platinum blonde hair pulled into a bun.  She wore all black, and looked most likely to be a hostess.  Her long nails clicked against the countertop in front of her.  Next to her stood a woman who appeared to be closer to Katya’s age, who donned very dark, severe makeup.  Trixie would never admit it, but she was more than a little intimidated by this woman.  She was dressed in a white button-down shirt and black pants, and wore a server’s apron tied around her waist.  This woman didn’t so much as glance in Trixie’s direction when she walked in; she instead kept her gaze fixed on the tall host.  Rounding out the group was a much shorter, curvier woman with orange hair, decked out in the same server uniform.  She looked disapprovingly at the scary one, and tilted her head to the dining room.  By the time Trixie got up to the desk, she could just hear the tail end of their conversation.

“Sharon, let’s go.  You’re going to miss pre-shift,” the shorter woman reached over to grab the other server by the wrist.

The host turned to Sharon and rolled her eyes.  “I have a job to do, and so do you…” While the sentence may have been short in words, it took an eternity to leave the girl’s mouth, she spoke incredibly slowly.  She turned back to face Trixie, a fake smile plastered on her face.  “Hiiiiiiiieeee! Welcome to Caliente, how may I help you?”

For a moment, Trixie was so caught up in scanning the restaurant for Katya that she didn’t even realize that she was being spoken to.  “Oh!  I was just looking for my friend who works here.”  The two servers, uninterested in what she was saying, started to walk away.  “Her name’s Katya?”  That caught their attention and they returned. 

Sharon let out a soft, dark laugh and shook her head.  “She doesn’t work here.”

“Well,” the host corrected, “not anymore she doesn’t.”

The redhead took a step towards Trixie.  “How do you know Katya? Have you heard from her lately?” She looked nervous, which made Trixie’s stomach turn with familiarity.  How many times had friends in Boston asked her about her then-roommate with that same expression when Katya was on some kind of bender?  How many times had she herself worn that same look of concern?

“I’m a friend from back home in Boston.  I-I haven’t talked to her in a while, but I was in town and was just hoping to maybe get in touch with her while I was here.”  The girls’ heights were so different, she found herself struggling to pick a focal point as she talked.  She picked at her cuticle beds.  “Do you know how I could get ahold of her?”

Another laugh from Sharon.  “Alaska, go get Adore out of pre-shift.  Tell her she has a table or something.”

The blonde left the host desk and walked through the restaurant, towards the kitchen.  Trixie rose one eyebrow.  Alaska?  What kind of name was Alaska?

The red head took Trixie by the elbow and guided her to a booth in the bar.  “I’m Ginger, by the way sweetheart.  Go ahead and take a seat, and I’ll send Adore over to see if she’s heard from Katya lately.  Do you want something to drink? I’d be more than happy to put an order in for you!”

Settling into the booth, Trixie ordered a glass of pinot grigio from Ginger, and waited to meet yet another new person.  When the girl with tangled black hair brought over her glass of wine, she introduced herself as Adore.  “Or, you can call me Dani, but nicknames are cool.”

Trixie tapped her nails on her wine glass.  “I’m Trixie.”  The two sat in awkward silence for a moment before she filled the gap nervously.  “So, anyway, the other girls said you might know how I could get ahold of Katya?”

Adore bit her lip.  “Well, I haven’t actually heard from her in two weeks.  When ‘laska told me that you’re Kat’s friend, I thought that maybe you knew where she was.”

The music in the bar felt muted.  Trixie’s heart dropped into her stomach.  She could hardly focus on the girl sitting across from her.  This girl hadn’t so much as heard from Katya in _two weeks?_  The face Adore was making wasn’t exactly casual—she looked worried.  Somehow, in five years, not much had changed with Katya it seemed.  Trixie took a breath and got her head on straight.  “Do you know where she lives?”

The other girl nodded in response and they exchanged phone numbers.  Within a few minutes, Adore texted Trixie the address of an apartment building only a few minutes away.  When she tried to pay for the glass of wine she had drank, Ginger refused, giving her a sweet sympathetic smile.  Trixie left the restaurant shaken, but determined. 

By the time she followed her Maps app to the address Adore had sent her, the sun was starting to go down.  It had been a long day, and Trixie’s lack of sleep from the previous evening was starting to catch up to her.  After another small pep talk in the car, she entered the apartment building and climbed the stairs until she found Katya’s apartment.  She knocked on the door once, twice, and then a third time much louder.  After no response, she began to search for a spare key.  If Katya was using again—which, if the reactions of her former coworkers were to be believed, she certainly was—then she would have hid a key out here somewhere in event of locking herself out.  For the years that the pair had lived together, Trixie had gotten used to making the trip to let her friend into the apartment on many the occasion. 

Predictably, she found the silver key sitting on top of the door frame.  She hesitated for a moment before sticking it into the keyhole and turning the lock.  The lights were off in the living room of the apartment and Trixie called her friends name before stepping inside.  It smelled like weed and cigarettes, and the general state of the living room could only be described as a minor disaster, which was normal for Katya.  A paper check sat on the counter, next to a stack of unopened bills and an ashtray.  The silence that surrounded her gave Trixie chills, but her intuition told her it was safe to continue inside. 

She found her way to the master bedroom, with its door wide open.  As expected, there was nobody inside.  What _was_ a surprise for her was how clean this room was.  The Katya she had known kept very messy quarters, but all the clothes were hanging neatly in the closet, and her bed was made.  Not that this wasn’t still very clearly Katya’s room.  A big red tapestry of the Soviet Union hung on the wall behind the bed, and all the clothing in the closet was black.  Empty packs of cigarettes were piled on the desk in the corner, next to some pages of paper that were crumpled and torn. The bookshelves on the wall were sagging, filled with heavy texts.  Trixie ran a finger on the creased spine of _Les Miserables_.  She had bought that copy for Katya for her birthday one year.  Just knowing that she had kept it all these years made Trixie grin.

Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, she pulled out her phone and called the number Adore had given her.  It was definitely Katya’s number—the all-Russian voicemail recording confirmed that—but she didn’t pick up the line, no matter how many times Trixie called.  She didn’t leave a voicemail, unsure of what she would even say.  After the third call, she laid back on the bed and waited for Katya to return home, or at the least return her phone call.  The pillows smelled just how she expected—faintly of cigarettes and a bit of woodsy perfume.  She shut her eyes, and before she knew it, she was asleep.

When she woke the next morning (thanks to the sunlight streaming through the blinds directly into her face), she thought for a moment that she was back in Katya’s bed circa 2010.  With her eyes still closed, it felt exactly the same.  The smell that surrounded her was comforting, and she found herself smiling to herself as she pretended to be asleep.  Her awake-ness caught up to her, however, and she remembered that it wasn’t 2010 and that Katya wasn’t next to her in bed.  She checked her phone.  No missed calls, and one text from Pearl asking how everything was going.  Nothing from Katya. The disappointment left a bitter taste in her mouth.


End file.
